A Glimpse Into You
by Kali Kato
Summary: Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts brings new mysteries, relationships, fights... and an even greater appreciation for those who love him.
1. the owl brings the butterbeer

A Glimpse Into You  
  
PG-13  
  
Kali Kato  
  
Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts brings new mysteries, relationships, fights... and an even greater appreciation for those who love him.  
  
WARNING: This fic contains genuine Book 5 (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix SPOILERS. I suggest you hold off from reading this fanfic until you read J.K. Rowling's masterpiece.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The rain had stopped, and yet, this small change in the wheather had not given Harry Potter's spirit any comfort. The boy with the black, upturned hair lay face down on his unmade bed in number four, Privet Drive, casually breathing in the scent of his pillow. Outside, somewhere, a dog barked, but Harry did not show any signs of flinching. After a minute he turned, placed his round glasses on his nose and stared into space. For once in the home of his Aunt and Uncle, all was quiet and there wasn't a complaint from anyone in the house. Perhaps, he realized, that was due to the time. It was, afterall, three in the morning. He sighed sadly, realizing sleep was beyond him. Harry stood and caught a glimpse of himself in his cracked, dusty mirrior that hung on his wall. He had grown, knowing the short summer had changed a lot about him, especially his height. He was going to be sixteen very soon, and for once he felt like he was catching up to Ron's frame. Harry stretched and shook the sleep from his eyes, yawning slightly. He reached under his bed, carefully avoiding the moth balls, and pulled out a roll of parchment, ink, and quill that he had stashed under there for safe keeping. He walked over to his desk and took a seat, carefully unrolling the parchment. Dipping his quill into the beautiful red ink, he settled its sharp tip to the yellow parchment and tried to think of what he would say to his dear Professor. Finally, the thoughts came to him.  
  
Dear Moony,  
  
Don't worry, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon have been behaving themselves this week. Dudley only tried to stick my head down the toilet once, but I managed to escape under his (very) heavy weight. Other than that, all has been rather quiet on our street. Mrs. Figg sends me pastries and rolls every other day. How she manages to smuggle them out of Dudley's sight is beyond me, but the treats have been nice and I've been sure to thank her. I've been careful about wandering around alone, as it is unsafe on our street, not only from Dudley's gang but from other mysteries as well. I think I've seen Dung following me on more than one occassion. As you can guess, I am counting the days until I am allowed to leave this place. Please come and rescue me as soon as you can. I look forward to seeing Tonks and Moody as well.  
  
With love,  
  
James   
  
Harry was careful now more than ever. He had been paranoid about Death Eaters intercepting his letters, so he had signed the letter with his Father's name, Harry's legal middle name, as an extra precaution. He had started signing many of his letters like that on request of The Order, and had started calling Professor Lupin 'Moony' just in case. He had a feeling Professor Lupin knew what he meant when he wrote, 'it is unsafe on our street.' The Order knew evil eyes were everywhere, and one could not be overly careful these warm, summer days. Sealing the letter, Harry reached for Hedwig's cage atop his dresser. Harry was surprised he could reach it, a few years ago, he needed a boost of height or a step-ladder to reach that high. The beautiful snow owl was wide awake, and ready for flight. He removed Hedwig and she cooed softly, stretching her long wings. He tied the letter to Hedwig's leg and stroked her back for a minute, silently wishing he could be the one to fly away into the morning sky.  
  
"Hedwig, take this letter to Professor Lupin at Grimmauld," Hedwig gave a sharp cry, "I know the letter is addressed to 'Moony', but he'll understand. I'll have a treat waiting for you when you return. Be careful," Harry told her.  
  
Hedwig cooed in understanding, making Harry smile. He opened the window, letting the soft, cool breeze lap his face. Finally, he released Hedwig from his arm, and she started to fly off. He watched her disappear, and when she was out of sight, he shut his window firmly. The sun was starting to peak over the sky, shining its warm rays down on London. Harry suddenly felt very tired, knowing he should get some sleep if he wanted to feel good and ready for Dudely's inevitable tricks. He sunk into his bed, quietly wishing for good dreams. Silently, Harry closed his eyes, trying to empty his mind..........  
  
....The hallway was dark, that was what Harry sensed first. His shoes squeaked against the marble floor as he stepped... his wand was out... silently he went. There was a figure beside him, one with dark hair and dark robes. He could not tell if it was male or female. The two walked together... yes, together... as they had never done before, and it was then, that Harry felt another presence beside him. It was a calm, soothing presence... one he had felt once before in his life not very long ago. The spirit felt strong, and yet, there was a silent innocence that he had learned to adore. He reached for this person's hand as the three walked forward through the halls, and the person clutched his in return. The hand was soft and warm... It wa the hand of a woman. Silently, the three continued forward, and Harry noted three doors at the end of the corridor, wherever they were. Yes, he knew now, what they wanted was concealed behind those doors... waiting for them. Then he heard the noise.... it was a terrible, shrill sound....  
  
"Sirius!"  
  
Harry awoke with a yell. His arms flailed in the air, fighting an invisible force. He was tangled in his blankets, falling to the floor with a thud. The dream was fresh in his mind, and he swore he could still hear the shrill sound in the mysterious hallway. Harry grabbed his glasses from his nightstand, looking around. And then, to his relief, saw the source of the tormenting noise. At his window, stood a large, slightly plump, black owl. It was a owl Harry had never seen before, tapping its beak against the glass pane. He stood, and stared at the owl at his window. He wondered at once if it was an owl from Voldemort or a Death Eater, but then he remembered he was protected at Privet Drive, just as Dumbledore had said. Surely an evil owl would have never known the way. Harry groped for his wand he had tucked under his pillow. He knew he was overreacting, but as he flung the window open, he was glad he was protected. The huge, dark owl toppled into his room, cooing softly. It landed on his desk, and it was then Harry noticed a roll of parchement tied to the owl's leg. But it was not the parchment that interested him, it was the fact the letter was tied to the owl's leg with a string of butterbeer bottle caps. At once Harry associated the butterbeer cap necklace with the one Luna Lovegood wore all the time. Harry shook his head and set his wand down, feeling foolish. This was Luna's owl, not a follower of Voldemort's. He suddenly wondered how Luna knew where he lived, he had, afterall, never told her, nor was he completely sure he wanted her to know. At that moment he chidded himself, remembering how she had lightened his spirits about... Sirius's fall... and he reminded himself right there that Luna was a friend, and a terrific witch. Harry carefully untied the letter from the owl's leg, and scratched the large bird affectionately. He unrolled the parchment, and was surprised to find a small card attached to the backside of the parchment, ignoring it for the moment, he read the letter out loud:  
  
HP,  
  
My dear father had a wonderful idea, and I immediately agreed. I found out (I have sources) that your birthday was approaching, and as our teacher of the D.A., I felt it my duty to get you a gift. So, included with this letter is a LIFETIME subscription to The Quibbler, my gift to you in the hope you'll enjoy future, very true, articles about you. I hope you have a good summer, and I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express.  
  
Signed,  
  
L. Lovegood  
  
P.S.  
  
The butterbeer bottlecaps I used to tie your letter to Higgy, my owl, is also a bracelet, my more personal present to you. Use it well.  
  
Harry couldn't help but grin. Luna almost seemed very normal in her letter, not at all as... ditzy... in person. Of course, the note about the butterbeer bracelet and 'useing it well' gave her away immediately. Her name ended in big, streaky flourishes, that also showed off her personality. He removed the white card from the back of the parchemnt, and found it was a certificate from The Quibbler, granting him a lifetime supply of free magazines. Harry smiled again. This was the first gift, as of yet, from anyone for his sixteenth birthday. He was also surprised Luna had put any thought into him at all, considering he didn't know when her birthday was. As a tribute to Luna, he placed the butterbeer bracelet around his wrist. He was surprised to find it didn't look bad at all. He wrote a quick thank you note to her, asking when her birthday was in a not-so-subtle way. He attached it to Higgy, and sent the owl on his way.  
  
Harry glanced at his watch... it was after seven. He could hear the Durshley's making noise downstairs, using the loo and whatnot. He sighed, knowing that they expected him to make breakfast to earn his keep. Before making his way downstairs, he slipped his sweater sleeve over his new butterbeer bracelet. Knowing Dudley, he'd steal it first chance he got.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 2 is coming up soon. I have plans for this fic, big plans, and will add another chapter pretty soon. Send the reviews, good or bad, people! 


	2. acid burn

A Glimpse Into You  
  
PG-13  
  
Kali Kato  
  
Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts brings new mysteries, relationships, fights... and an even greater appreciation for those who love him.  
  
P  
  
WARNING: This fic contains genuine Book 5 (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix SPOILERS. I suggest you hold off from reading this fanfic until you read J.K. Rowling's masterpiece.  
  
P  
  
star: When I say I have big plans, I mean that I have some ideas rolling around in my head for this story that will take form and applied to paper/wordpad. That is... if people like this fic. ;)  
  
P  
  
After breakfast, Harry retreated to his room, highly aware of Dudley's threats of another swirley in the toilet ringing in his ears. Sometimes Harry wondered how Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia allowed Dudley to get away with his threats, when it occured to Harry, that his parents, (his father especially) were probably just as bad at his age and would probably love to give Harry a swirley or two back then.   
  
P  
  
Harry tried with little luck to comb back his upturned, messy hair in the bathroom mirror. Since the start of summer he had begun to grow out his hair in the hope of taming it. His black mane now stood tossled at his neck and uneven in the back--- he looked like a shaggy dog in need of a haircut. He had to admit, though, that he thought he looked more appealing this way--- like a rebel. His glasses, which he had since he was nine, were starting to outgrow his face. The circle frames were old and loose, and the paint had been chipped away from years of use. Harry wondered if there was a spell that could stretch his glasses to his face so he wouldn't have to bother his Aunt and Uncle for a new pair. Harry dressed and noticed that his clothes were tighter and his shirt shorter--- he was growing, but he knew Ron still outdid him in height. He missed the Weasleys and could only wish for the moment he would see them, freckles and all.  
  
P  
  
Harry came down the steps and spyed Dudley grabbing some chocolate bars from the cupboard high above the oak counter in the kitchen. Aunt Petunia had hid them there hoping Dudley wouldn't notice--- but fat Dudley had a eye for candy and sneaked out as much as he could, cramming it into his plump face with feverish movements. It disguested Harry.  
  
P  
  
"Boy," Uncle Vernon's deep voice came from behind Harry. "Boy, I'm closing a deal with the McGregor firm today, and your Aunt and I want the transaction to go smoothly, so---"  
  
P  
  
Harry interrupted harshly with, "I'll stay in my room and keep quiet."  
  
P  
  
Uncle Vernon got quite a look on his face, one of supreme knowledge. He smiled smugly. "Actually, I've arranged for you to visit Mrs. Figg next door. You'll be doing some chores over there, mind you, you'll be paid nothing. I expect you to be on your best behavior, and if I hear otherwise, you'll have to deal with your... punishment."  
  
P  
  
Harry tried his best to hid a small smile tugging at his lips. If only Uncle Vernon knew the truth--- Mrs. Figg would treat him nicely, probably stuff him full of snacks. There would be no chores for him. Harry decided to feign innocence by looking disturbed. "Do I HAVE to," he asked.  
  
P  
  
"Yes, Potter, I don't want you near my guests. They'll not be informed of your existence in my household." Uncle Vernon said with satisfaction.  
  
P  
  
"Lovely," Harry replied dryly.  
  
P  
  
Uncle Vernon nodded and then walked toward the stairs, not even noticing Dudley and his candy heist. Harry rolled his eyes and decided to go see what was going on outside Privet Drive, number four. Harry grabbed his jacket and raced toward the door, happy to see the world outside his prison.  
  
P  
  
The grass had grown thick and dry outside the Durshley's lawn, and Harry knew it was only a matter of time before Uncle Vernon would be screaming at Harry to mow it. Harry tried hopelessly to wave at Mrs. O'Connell, who lived across the way at number ten, but she turned her nose up at him and continued to water her rose garden. Harry knew the neighbors still thought he was a troubled boy, and he guessed that would never change. Harry took a seat outside the drive of his "home" and began to draw lazy circles with his hand in the dirt--- he was truly bored out of his mind. He would give anything to be back at Hogwarts, to see Ron and Hermione again, to talk to them and laugh with them. Harry stared up at the sky and tried to make out shapes in the fading clouds...  
  
P  
  
It was then Harry saw it.   
  
P  
  
A flash of green light far off illuminated the clouds so they looked like a floating mass of dark acid. But as fast as the flash came, it disappeared. Harry rubbed his eyes--- certainly his mind was tricking him. But, in Harry's six years of being a wizard, he had learned to never trust the unseen. Harry stood, still entranced by the sky, and made his way to Mrs. Figg's house.  
  
P  
  
Maybe the old bat would know just what was going on.  
  
P  
  
Harry tried to not step on the four (rather plump) cats laying about Mrs. Figg's walkway. He made his way to the door and picked up the knocker, letting it fall with a small bang on the oak wood. A cat meowed a small distance away from Harry, and he realized the cat's color was vaguely familiar. Harry shoved his hands into his pockets, and waited for an answer. His eyes glanced up at the graying clouds.... but he saw nothing. What was happening in the wizard world?  
  
P  
  
The door swung open rather violently, and Mrs. Figg was standing a hair away from Harry's neck, her breathe the smell of old liquor. She was dressed in a ratty pink night dress, her slippers intact. She looked up at Harry, and he realized he was no longer looking the woman in the eye as he did last summer. He was taller. At last.  
  
P  
  
"Harry!" She squeaked, "I wasn't expecting you 'till nightfall, when the terrible fat bastard of a uncle said I'd be watching you," she looked him up and down, "Of course, you're welcome in my home anyday."  
  
P  
  
"Uh, thanks," Harry said, discreetely stepping back.  
  
P  
  
"Well, don't stand there waiting for he-who-shall-not-be-named-in-my-house to soar upon us--- GET IN!"  
  
P  
  
She then grabbed Harry by his collar and dragged him into the old house, leaving the meowing cats outside. The door was slammed and Harry watched her key seven sets of locks before sighing to herself. Mrs. Figg, who was a squib and no interest to Voldemort, was always cautious when Harry was concerned.   
  
P  
  
"Sit down, boy, I'll bring you some tea," She said, heading toward the kitchen.  
  
P  
  
"I'm quite fine, thanks," Harry tried. He didn't want to tell her that her tea tasted like old feet and cat hair.   
  
P  
  
"No, no, a growing lad needs his vitamins," and with that she disappeared behind the molding curtain that was used as a makeshift door into the kitchen. To be frank, her house chilled Harry. It was dirty, messy, and had a terrible ordor to the chairs. But, Harry would rather be here then in the range of Uncle Vernon and his guests. Harry sat and stared at the ceiling--- the paint was fading. Perhaps, Harry thought, he should offer to fix up her place--- she had been sneaking him pies, afterall.  
  
P  
  
Mrs. Figg returned in no time with a cup of tea, well, actually, it wasn't a cup. It was a jar... filled with a steaming yellow substance. Harry took it was a plastered grin, but dare not drink it. He sometimes wondered why she didn't own decent cups.  
  
P  
  
"So, Harry, have you heard from The Order?"  
  
p  
  
"Not really," Harry said, pinching his brow. As a matter of fact he hadn't seen or heard from any of The Order since last year. He had only kept up letters with Lupin, Ron, Hermione and one from Luna. What had happened?  
  
P  
  
"Well, boy, I will say that they have been keeping very close eyes on you. Fletcher and I patrol evenings, and Tonks has seen you every morining as you rise and shine. Poor girl, you scare her silly when you wake up screaming. Is it bad dreams?"  
  
P  
  
Harry suddenly wondered how Tonks had been aware of his dreams--- how could she have been that close to him?  
  
P  
  
"Sometimes," Harry admitted softly, but it seemed Mrs. Figg didn't even hear him.  
  
P  
  
"Is The Order still at Grimmuald Place?" Harry asked.  
  
P  
  
"I'm afraid I know nothing of that," she said, looking at him and then to his tea, "Drink up, dear."  
  
P  
  
Harry decided it was time to change the subject.  
  
P  
  
"May I ask you something, Mrs Figg?"  
  
P  
  
"Certainly, but take a sip first. It's good, I promise. It's a private recepie from my Great Aunt."  
  
P  
  
Harry didn't.  
  
P  
  
"Just before coming here I saw something in the sky---" He began.  
  
P  
  
"The sky, you say," Figg interrupted, her eyes growing wider.   
  
P  
  
"Yes, it was like the sky exploded internally. It was green and the clouds bubbled like acid and---"  
  
P  
  
But before he could continue she jumped up and put her hands over her ears and gave a deathly scream.  
  
P  
  
"Oh dear, we're gonna die! Die!" She cried as she ran in circles around Harry's chair. "Die, die, die, die, die!"  
  
P  
  
"What?" Harry said, blinking at the crazy old woman in front of him.  
  
P  
  
"Harry, this is bigger than you and I, this---"  
  
P  
  
But she never had a chance to answer. Before Harry could do anything a stripped cat, he one from beofre, leapt into the room through the open window, landing like a wisp on the dusty floor. It was then Harry remembered who the cat was. Harry stood, and tried not to look guilty. Mrs. Figg, still screaming her head off, was not helping the look on his face as the large cat stared into Harry's green eyes. Even as a cat, she had a look of complete annoyance.  
  
P  
  
Professor McGonagall had arrived. 


	3. the cat brings darkness

A Glimpse Into You  
  
PG-13  
  
Kali Kato  
  
Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts brings new mysteries, relationships, fights... and an even greater appreciation for those who love him.  
  
P  
  
WARNING: This fic contains genuine Book 5 (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix SPOILERS. I suggest you hold off from reading this fanfic until you read J.K. Rowling's masterpiece.  
  
P  
  
"Professor!" Harry said as he stood, rather flustered.  
  
P  
  
Mrs. Figg continued to zoom around the room, her grayed hair falling from her tidy bun and her legs flailing in every direction.  
  
P  
  
The cat, who Harry knew was his Transfiguration teacher, Minerva McGonagall, had hissed at Figg when she almost stepped on her tail. Harry watched as the fur on the cat began to melt away and the whole body form began to grow into the tall, slim form of McGonagall. The cat's black stripes melted into her dark robes and and her pale skin came into the light of Figg's dusty lamps. Harry suddenly realized how very cool it would be to become an Animagus.  
  
P  
  
Fully formed, McGonagall stared past Harry and at Figg, who did not cease her cries even after spotting the fully formed Professor. McGonagall glanced at Harry, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he saw her roll her eyes at him.  
  
P  
  
"Arabella---" McGonagall began, her lips twitching.  
  
P  
  
"Die, we're going to die!" Cried Figg.  
  
P  
  
"Arabella, please," McGonagall tried reasoning again.  
  
P  
  
"My word, where are my cats? Goodness gracious!"  
  
P  
  
"Stop that, calm yourself, sit---"   
  
P  
  
Harry could tell McGonagall was starting to become a little more than annoyed at Figg's antics. Harry tried not to grin at the whole situation--- he was, afterall, rather glad to see someone from the magic world besides a squib.  
  
P  
  
"Harry," Figg cried as she grabbed her waistcoat and threw it on (inside out, of course), "You must get out and save yourself and---"  
  
P  
  
This time McGonagall did not allow Mrs. Figg to finish. She simply marched over to the older woman, clutched her shoulders, and stared at her in a way that made Harry cringe--- he had seen that look many times before when she gave him detention or took away House points.  
  
P  
  
"Arabella Figg, if you do not sit down and calm yourself I will be forced to do it for you," And Harry suddenly noticed the glint of McGonagall's cherry wand tucked into her belt. Figg looked at McGonagall for a moment, and if she couldn't make up her mind, Harry was sure McGonagall was ready to pounce. Thankfully, Figg's shoulders slumped and she looked at her feet, slippers and all.  
  
P  
  
"Good," McGonagall sighed and let go of Figg's shoulders, "Now," she said turning to Harry.  
  
P  
  
A lightbulb suddenly went off in Harry's mind. Why, exactly, was his teacher here?  
  
P  
  
"Potter, please have a seat and close your mouth," She said with a cheeky smile that Harry had never seen before.  
  
P  
  
Figg, her eyes dark and afraid, headed toward the kitchen. "I suppose you'll be wanting some tea," she mumbled.  
  
P  
  
"That would be lovely," McGonagall said as she took a seat in the torn blue chair across from Harry. Her face remained statue-like until Figg had completely disappeared behind the curtain. She then reached into her robe and took out a folded parchemnt. She opened it and placed it on the table before her.   
  
P  
  
"Potter, this is a decree from the Misistry of Magic written under the supervision of the Order of Merlin requested by Albus Dumbledore, third class," She said, her eyes bright. "As you are very well aware of, given your antics in the past, that the use of underage magic is prohibited by any wizard under the age of seventeen is not tolerated among any wizarding district---"  
  
P  
  
"Lemon, dear?" Figg asked, her head peeking around the curtain.  
  
P  
  
McGonagall's lips tightened at this intrusion, but she reamained calm. "No. Thank you."  
  
P  
  
"Got it," Figg said and disappeared again.  
  
P  
  
McGonagall adjusted her square glasses and Harry sat up, wondering what she wanted with him and some decree. "Mr. Potter it is no secret that your life has been and will now be in danger every moment you live, I'm sad to say. So, Albus requested that you recieve a pardon to use magic outside of Hogwarts at any time you feel your life is threatened."  
  
P  
  
Harry was surprised at this. It had always seemed to Harry that wizards did not tolerate such things, even law changes, especially for one lone half-blood like himself.   
  
P  
  
"Why?" Asked Harry, "Did the wizarding world agree?"  
  
P  
  
McGonagall's brow crinkled. "Well, I believe it's simply your fame, Potter. You are the one who ruined and defied... He-who-shall-not-be-named, countless times. It is understandable that they will give you some leverage. You have one year to go before you are seventeen and you will be living outside of Hogwarts... you must protect yourself under these terrible circumstances. Your headmaster can be very convincing." She said, letting a faint smile cross her lips.   
  
P  
  
"So," Harry started, "If I saw a Dementor at this very moment I could cast my Patronus and not worry about backlash at all?"   
  
P  
  
"That's right," McGonagall said with a nod, "But, I believe if we indeed saw a Dementor that I could take care of it for you. You will be allowed to use magic within reason, Potter. If you have someone, like myself, in your presence outside of Hogwarts then there is no need for your haste to use magic."  
  
P  
  
Harry found this to be very interesting, and was reminded immediately of The Order. They were, afterall, his guardians... even McGonagall. Before he could ask another question, Figg stumbled out from behind the curtain, a round jar of tea in her grasp. She handed it off to McGonagall who looked absolutely disguested with Figg's taste in cups.  
  
P  
  
"Would you mind, Arabella. I need to speak with Mr. Potter more. Alone." She said to Mrs. Figg with a curved tongue, her voice hard and delibrate.  
  
P  
  
"Right," Figg said, "I'll just go tend to my cats." She walked away and out the front door, leaving Harry alone with his teacher, who wiped the brim of the jar with her sleeve. It seemed cat hair stuck to her robes and McGonagall rolled her eyes, "That woman!" She growled. She then quickly whisked her wand from her robes and tapped the jar, which transfigured into a lovely teacup. McGonagall also pointed her wand at Harry's jar of tea, which transfigured into a mug. "How can you tolerate that old bat, Potter?" Harry wondered if he should actually answer her, but decided not to. Harry took a small sip of the tea, and found that it tasted like.... ragweed. Why was there a potion ingrident in his tea? Harry guessed Figg really was crazy. McGonagall inclined her head toward the door, checking for Figg, before moving across the room to the open window. She shut it. Turning to Harry, her face was straight and tight.   
  
P  
  
"I am not solely here to deliver a decree, we could have used an owl for that."  
  
P  
  
Harry raised his brow. What was up?  
  
P  
  
"I am here by decision of The Order. I am your escort, Potter."  
  
P  
  
"For what?" Harry asked, standing.  
  
P  
  
"I am taking you someplace for your protection," She said.  
  
P  
  
"The Burrow?" Harry asked, excited. The thought of seeing the Weasley's brightened his face.  
  
P  
  
"Hardly," McGonagall said.  
  
P  
  
"Grimmuald Place?" Harry wondered outloud.  
  
P  
  
"No." She said softly. "Why don't you sit down," she suggested. Perhaps, Harry wondered, that McGonagall thought that Grimmuald Place was too strong a subject for Harry. He wished both worlds, muggle and wizard alike, would stop treating him like a child.   
  
P  
  
"Where then?" Harry asked again, his voice demanding. Perhaps too demanding.  
  
P  
  
"You shall see in due time," She said, staring at him with a look Harry recognized as worry, "Do you feel alright, Potter?"  
  
P  
  
"Uh--- yeah," Harry said, but as soon as the words left his mouth he felt a small jolt in his stomach. He gulped and looked down at the maroon rug.  
  
P  
  
McGonagall suddenly bit her lower lip, and crossed her arms in front of her, "Please sit down, Harry."  
  
P  
  
Harry was taken aback. In the six years he had known Professor McGonagall, she had never directly called him by his first name. Harry suddenly felt inclined to sit. Upon sitting he realized his face felt hot, and his hands were sweaty. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, and he found his vision was blurry. Much worse than normal. He left his glasses off and tried to focus on the form of McGonagall, who blurred terribly as she turned toward the window. What was wrong with him? Had she hexed him? Why would any of The Order hex him? He groaned slightly as he felt another rumble in his stomach. His vision, which distorted every object in the room, was now dark and grey. What was wrong with him?  
  
P  
  
"Professor," Harry tried, "What's.. going....on?" He found his speech was slurred.  
  
P  
  
But, Harry never heard her answer. He slumped forward and felt his mind go somewhere far off. He felt like he was slowly falling alseep. Like he was watching his mind close. Somewhere, very far off, he heard voices.  
  
P  
  
"How much did you give him?" The voice of McGonagall pierced his ears blindly.  
  
P  
  
"Essence of ragweed, mixed with hartrex powder. Quite a simple tonic, really."  
  
p  
  
Harry, somehow, noted that voice was a man's. A very familiar man's. The voice was harsh and decisive with little sympathy... no, Harry realized, there was no sympathy in this man's voice. Harry registered that it was the voice of Severus Snape. As Harry felt his mind close and simply wander, he heard one last thing:  
  
P  
  
"Did it work?" Figg asked.  
  
P  
  
Darkness. All Harry felt was darkness. 


	4. white wash

A Glimpse Into You  
  
PG-13  
  
Kali Kato  
  
Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts brings new mysteries, relationships, fights... and an even greater appreciation for those who love him.  
  
WARNING: This fic contains genuine Book 5 (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix SPOILERS. I suggest you hold off from reading this fanfic until you read J.K. Rowling's masterpiece.  
  
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The first sensation Harry noticed was that his eyelids were heavy. He felt like his body weighed more than it did, and he ached in more places then he'd like too. His brain felt numb and weak, and it didn't help that he was very hungry. Somewhere in his mind he knew he was laying on soft sheets with his head placed on a pillow--- but he didn't care. Slowly and silently he opened his heavy eyes, afraid to see what he would see, be it good or bad.   
  
What he saw surprised him.  
  
He was in a room colored white-- white sheets, walls, lamp shades and a white vase full of white roses greeted his eyes. He noticed pale sunlight stream through a window shut tight, white blinds pulled up. It looked very much like a Muggle home--- except for the paintings lined on the walls with pale white frames. The wizards and witches inside them were chatting gleefully and running from portrait to portrait. Then Harry noticed red, which was a high contrast from the white of the room. Somehow, he knew immediately, that the red belonged to a Weasley.   
  
He was right.  
  
It was much to his delight when he rubbed his eyes to find Molly Weasley in front of him. She sat in a rocking chair at the foot of his bed, snoring softly with her head propped up against a pillow. Harry smiled and noticed his glasses laying, cleaned and repaired, on the bedside table. Placing them on, he felt his vision restored from earlier. How did he get to this... place? He knew immediately this house was far away from Grimmuald-- which had been in a ruddy mess when he last saw it, and white seemed to be a color that the House of Black had never heard of. Silently, Harry sat up and ran his fingers through his matted hair, suddenly realizing he was in fresh, new pajamas. They were also two sizes too big for him. Who had dressed him? The thought of someone looking at him, starkers no doubt, caused heat to rise into his cheeks... but he quickly brushed the thought away. Not only that, but Harry was especially curious to hear from Professor McGonagall. Why had she poisoned him? Why did he hear Snape's voice before he conked out? And more importantly... where in the hell was he?  
  
Harry wondered if the two, and maybe Mrs. Figg, had dragged him to this home and called the Weasleys over. But, why couldn't he know where he was going? Why would they go to the strange precaution of drugging him? Harry sighed and could only wish for all the answers. He pushed his legs to the edge of the bed and silently stood, his legs shaking slightly from hunger and lack of use. How long had he been out? He certainly felt like he hadn't eaten for a week. He stretched silently, not wishing to wake Mrs. Weasley (who looked downright exhausted-- her hair was messed and her apron and robe well worn), and carefully went to the door, which opened for him automatically--- he was taken back by this but continued into the hallway. The hallway, different from his bedroom, was painted a green olive, with the doorways painted a light black. It was strange, but nothing Harry hadn't seen before. Not knowing his way around, Harry crept toward a staircase, which lead up onto another floor (which, upon checking, Harry found empty and the walls colored a dark yellow). He didn't bother to check for sleeping wizards or witches in the rooms dotting the hall-- he didn't want to be caught, he had decided. The wizard portraits chatted and buzzed around, not noticing him at all. It seemed they were used to company. Harry chose to climb down the oak staircase onto the first floor of the large house.Upon checking the windows, Harry discovered the house to be surronded by a vast forest with the sun silently peeking over the tree tops. He did not recognize any of the scenery at all.  
  
"Where am I...?" Harry asked to himself.  
  
Harry suddenly heard the shifting of floorboards behind him.   
  
"If you don't know, I'm not telling, kid."   
  
Upon turning, Harry saw someone he didn't recognize. It was a man-- a tall man (much taller than any of the Weasleys) with a strong build and sharp, long face. Whiskers dotted his chin, and his cropped, untidy blonde hair flopped in front of his blue eyes in long wisps. His muscels were visible under his chesnut robes and his wand, obviously making him a wizard, hung from a chain around his middle. He was standing against the banister of the stairs, a leather tote bag in his hand. He was looking at Harry with a stare similar to McGonagall's: intense and harsh. Yet, Harry sensed that this man had a sense of humor.   
  
"Uh, who are you?" Asked Harry, taking a step closer and trying to look taller.   
  
"Me? Not important. You, though, you're Harry Potter," The man said at once, a sly smile starting to creep onto his lips.  
  
"I guess I am," Harry said, feling bolder, "And you are---"  
  
"Can I see it?" Asked the man abruptly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're mark, boy."  
  
"Why?" Harry asked, feeling intruded upon.  
  
"Well, Minnie's been telling me about the bloody thing for years--- how it pricks, etcetra. I'm just curious as to if it really does look like a bolt or not, that's all."  
  
Harry, having been asked to reveal his scar to everyone he'd ever met in the wizarding world, silently pulled the fringe from his forehead. The man before him gawked at it and bent down to Harry's head, trying to get a better look. Harry felt uncomfortable, but didn't pull away.... somehow he knew this man wasn't a threat.  
  
Behind him, he heard a door creak open.  
  
"Blimey, why don't you two get a room?"  
  
Harry immediately knew the voice belonged to Ron Weasley, his best friend. He turned to find Ron, taller than ever, dressed in purple striped PJ bottoms and a new Weasley jumper, his hair messed and his face weary from sleep. He had a childish grin on his face, and he looked from Harry to the man with a mildly entertained expression on his face.  
  
"He was just curious about my scar, that's all," Harry said taking a step back and glancing at Ron with distaste. Ron, however, didn't seem to notice.  
  
"Marriott's curious about everything," Ron said, rolling his eyes. He then began to mimic Marriott's hard voice with, "Hullo, Ron. What's Hogwarts like? How's the wheather at your burrow? How does your mum cook this or that? How does a baby survive an attack from You-Know-Who? Blah, blah, blah." Ron said, showing no shame for speaking in front of the man he was making fun of. Marriott only smiled slyly, his white teeth blazing. For a faint moment, he reminded Harry of a younger, rougher Professor Lockheart without the curled hair.  
  
"Being curious isn't bad, mate," Marriott said, "I'd say it livens the soul. Builds your character."  
  
"Whatever," Ron said, making a face.  
  
Ron then looked at Harry up and down, as if deciding if he was okay or not. "You're up, eh? You've been out for four days."  
  
"That long?" Harry asked, still wondering where he was.  
  
"Yeah, Mum was worried sick. I think she thought you'd never wake. She insisted on sitting with you until you woke up--- Hermione too," Ron said thoughtfully.  
  
"Hermione?" Harry grinned, "Is she here?"  
  
"She was, but she went out with McGonagall this morning for something at Diagon Alley." He said brightly, running a freckled hand through his red hair, "Should be back later, though."  
  
Harry's shoulders slumped. He had wanted to confront McGonagall about the events of four days ago, but now it seemed that would have to wait.  
  
"Where are we, exactly?" Harry asked.  
  
"We're in McGonagall's house," Ron said.  
  
"Her house!" Harry yelled, shocked. "I didn't know she had a house!"  
  
"Yeah, except, we're not exactly sure where it is. See, last week Mum got a call from Dumbledore. Said he was planning an emergency meeting and needed the entire Order to gather someplace safe where we'd be unheard and unseen."  
  
"The Order is all here?" Harry said happily. The thought of seeing Lupin instead of writing to him lightened his spirits.  
  
"Yup, everyone besides Dumbledore. Dad said he'll be coming later, dunno when though."  
  
"Why is McGonagall's house safe... and, uh, unseen?" Asked Harry.  
  
"Damned if I know," Marriott said, peeking around Ron at Harry. "Lived here all my life and I still don't know how to leave this mansion without using the underground passage. If you go outside into the forest, well, let's just say I was lost for ten weeks. Lived offa rats, I did," Marriott simply said. Ron made another face, but chose to ignore Marriott's remarks. "Minnie and I hid in the passage all the time from Mum and Dad, rest their souls," Marriott said, "The passage, being as dark as it is and chanted to reisist magic, is the perfect place for hide-and-seek. Poor Minne, she was always trying to Lumos her way out. Never worked, not once." Marriott plastered the same cheeky, sly grin on his face.  
  
Harry suddenly had a very curious question pop into his mind.  
  
"Where you drugged to get in here too, Ron?"   
  
"Nah, my eyes were sealed shut with this curse McGonagall formed. Hermione memorized it. It hurt a bit, and they bumped us around in that old passage--- that hurt like hell. Mum said it really was darker then dark."  
  
"Why was I drugged?" Harry asked gruffly.  
  
"Dunno," Ron said.  
  
Marriott leaned against the wall, and sighed. "Kids nowadays! You wizards know all about treats but not tricks. It's really easy to figure it out of you actually use your brain. Now that cutie, Hermione, she uses her brain, she does."  
  
Ron's face twitched at that remark, and Harry knew immediately that Ron would end up hating this Mariott fellow as much as he hated Viktor Krum.  
  
"Look here, Marriott, leave Hermione out of this," Ron said, heat rising into his cheeks.  
  
Marriott, not hearing any of this, continued with: "She's sure got legs, that witch," he mumbled, "Yeah, legs that can wrap around you, ya know, boys," He said with a slight laugh. "Nah, you lads wouldn't know anything about THAT. You guys are just pups." Before Ron could take a side step and slam his fist into Marriott's jaw, Harry glanced up at the man.  
  
"WHO ARE YOU?" Harry asked loudly, screwing his face.   
  
Marriott looked very amused by Harry's sudden outburst, and grinned.  
  
"You don't know me? You really don't know the face? The stories? The books? The newsletters? The articles of Marriott McGonagall, Beast Chaser?" He looked incredulously at Harry.   
  
Harry rolled his eyes. Marriott reminded him more and more of Lockheart.  
  
"No, as a matter of fact--- I don't," Harry said sharply.  
  
"Figures," Marriott grumbled as he shrugged off Harry's remark and stumbled toward the front door. "Nobody ever remembers Marriott.... poor me." He growled, pushing a large hand through his cropped hair.  
  
He opened the door and slammed it with a bang loud enough to wake McGonagall's entire house.  
  
Ron and Harry waited for his form to disappear behind the shroud of the woods outside the house before exchanging a look. Who did that guy think he was?  
  
"Who is he to McGonagall? A cousin?" Asked Harry.  
  
Ron sighed and shook his head.  
  
"Nah, younger brother. Strange bloke," Ron frowned.   
  
"He's a bit dodgy," Harry agreed.  
  
"Yeah--- Hey, let's get some breakfast," Ron suggested, rubbing his stomach.  
  
Harry nodded and started to follow Ron around the house, his mind racing. It was then that somethingt registered with Harry:  
  
Professor Minerva McGonagall had a brother. It was almost as scary as learning that McGonagall had a house and didn't haunt Hogwarts all year as the rumors had said.   
  
Indeed, to Harry, it was all very interesting. 


End file.
